Promise of Tomorrow
by The Mad Otter
Summary: Sometimes time is a cruel mistress. She doesn't allow you to say goodbye, to say 'I love you'. Courage is needed to stop putting off saying these things, for tomorrow isn't guaranteed. Tomorrow isn't coming. So be careful, oh so careful about what you promise. For broken promises can lead to shattered souls. (Previously known as Tomorrow's Broken Promise)
1. Chapter 1

Title - Promise of Tomorrow

Category - Harry Potter

Genre - Romance/ Angst/Tragedy

Rating - Mature

Warning - Character death, PTSD

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary - Sometimes time is a cruel mistress. She doesn't allow you to say goodbye, to say 'I love you'. Courage is needed to stop putting off saying these things, for tomorrow isn't guaranteed. Tomorrow isn't coming. So be careful, oh so careful about what you promise. For broken promises can lead to shattered souls.

A.N 2019 - I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who just took the time to read, review, favourite and followed this story. It means a lot. I have edited parts of this and added some scenes that you might enjoy.

This is the first part of two, which should be updated soon.

* * *

Time moves in one direction,

memory in another.

William Gibson

* * *

When people looked at her, they saw someone who was a stickler of the rules, the desperate need to show off her intelligence and need to be acknowledged by her teachers.

But to those who knew her, her friends, her family, they saw the true her. She was a stickler for the rules but knew when the rules were wrong and needed breaking. She was intelligent, a gift she had desperately worked for and she didn't want anyone hindering her thirst of knowledge.

She had always felt like she had a stronger understanding of Time than most people if anything from time travelling in her third year. The fact that events could happen all at the same time and not. That one action could lead to countless possibilities.

Time which was once her friend had betrayed her.

Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, she couldn't hear anything else. The sound scraped through her mind, making it impossible to think of anything else.

Pump-

Scrape

Pump-

Scrape

Pump-

SCRAPE

"Harry Potter is dead. You have lost, surrender or perish." Voldemort voice ran out across the full courtyard. Any other sounds had long since disappeared, her heart pumping so loud and she could not help wonder why. Why was it is still pumping when she could feel it breaking? She watch with unseeing eyes as Draco walk towards Voldemort, a part of her should have felt betrayed yet she felt nothing. It was like nothing was true.

Harry couldn't be dead.

Could he?

Whilst everyone else was filled with angry energy buzzing just under their skins, waiting for a signal to attack or retreat. Good little soldiers oh so willing to die, to carry on despite the odds. She was motionless and was quite surprised that her legs didn't bundle from underneath her. She knew that this was going to happen, but a deep part of was denying the evidence in front of her.

Hoping, praying that this was a boggart.

But it wasn't.

She had to accept the truth, Harry was dead.

After all, she stood by as he walked to his own death.

* * *

 _They had managed to grab the seats by the fire, Ron was chasing the Twins around after their latest prank on him, Hermione had a book for light reading and Harry was just throwing_

 _It was a comfortable silence before Harry broke it, his mind focused on the latest argument of Ron and Hermione about the letter she received today from Krum._

 _"I've been wondering why you were the thing Krum would miss most, I mean he had some of his classmates there. Was there something deeper to your friendship?" Harry asked one evening,_

 _"I think Harry, there are people who just click and know that being together for a short time can trump years of knowing people. There was something about him that made me feel like he understood me and I hope it was the same for him." Hermione said, her book closed on her lap. She bit her lip, before blurting out what had been bothering her since last year. "About the trial, I know it's stupid and you didn't have any choice but will Ron always be first?"_

 _She felt Harry turn around to focus on her and for a moment all she could hear was the thumping of her heart in her ears._

 _"I think it's because I already knew what it would be like not to have you in my life. Second year." He answered her curious look and she understood. "I was a complete mess, I couldn't think, eat or sleep without thinking of you and I couldn't go through that again."_

 _"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed, understanding filling her. She had heard that her petrification had hit both of her boys hard. "I understand, I don't think I could cope losing you or Ron. I would feel like I was missing a part of me."_

 _Harry, who wanted to break the sombre air around them, nudged her shoulder with his own before cheekily commenting; "Also I think McGonagall was pushing you to be with a quidditch superstar."_

 _"Harry!" She exclaimed, mortified but could not help the grin that hurt her cheeks or the bubble of laughter as Harry over-exaggerated his look of offence when the pillow she threw hit his head._

* * *

She had heard the message Voldemort, his voice had echoed in her mind, worst than she had ever experienced with the locket. This was cruel and cold whereas the locket voice was silky, wanting her to do its bidding.

She knew she had to find Harry before it was all too late. She knew the type of person he was, sometimes more than she knew herself. That's why she knew that Voldemort's snide comment of those who had lost had ensured that he would be there. She despised and admired his hero complex. It was a death sentence and she couldn't let him go on his own, she had always promised him that she would be there for him. She had promised herself that she would be beside him. If this is how it would all end, then she would stare death in the face with a smile on her face, only if Harry would be holding her hand.

Her smile may be broken but her spirit wouldn't be. Not to the likes of men and women like Voldemort and Bellatrix, she had proven that to herself already.

She ran off in desperation, shrugging off Ron's hand on her shoulder and his voice bounced off his ears unheard. She knew as did Ron that despite knowing both of them for the same amount of time, her loyalties would be with Harry first. Whilst she understood why Ron had already proven where his loyalties lie when he left them alone in a tent for food and a warm bed.

But she, she had oblivated her parents for Harry.

She was tortured and refused to talk for Harry.

Dying beside him would be nothing.

After all, Ron wasn't the one she was hopelessly in love with. Perhaps if she was, she would have been different. She might not be as willing.

Her eyes scoured the halls as she ran, unwilling to stop until she saw a face that had seared itself in her very soul. She stopped short at the top of the stairs when she saw him, waiting at the Main Doors and she could tell what his choice was. She had already known but his face confirmed it.

Whilst he was standing tall, she knew him well enough to see how weary he truly was with the guilt of those slain in what he would be considered his name. His fight against Voldemort. Children as young as eleven, Order members who had families left behind. She could hear Ron grumbling behind her as he nearly tumbled into her. She paid no attention to him, even though he accidentally made her stumble down the next step, all her attention was on Harry.

She just knew that he would comply with Voldemort's demands, an action that she dreaded but knew it the most logical move to make. Their side had so many dead and injured than they had that could fight, they had to think about the children who needed to be protected. The children who could be saved, smuggled away in the safety. Children who were too young to be fighting for their lives, but old enough to die.

She had forgotten what it was like before that mentality, after all, she had had it since she was 12. She had fought for her right to live year after year and she was so tired of it all. She was bone-weary. She was ready to die.

Her hurried footsteps made Harry turn to see who was coming, his body defensive until he recognised her. As his eyes connected with her tear-filled eyes, his whole demeanour seemed to falter. In front of his closest friends, he was not a figurehead, an idol or a leader, he was just Harry. As she came to stop in front of him, Ron right behind her, it was as they were stuck in time. Not speaking or moving, she could barely see Harry body move from every breath he took. At that moment, they knew that it was the end of the life they would know, it would be their last as the Golden Trio. Perhaps one or two of them would still be alive at the end of it all, but the gap would be massive. Part of them would be missing.

A sob caught in her throat, effectively breaking their moment and she willed herself to move to the open arms, and the soft, understanding eyes. She hated that they were understanding, they shouldn't have to understand this moment, this decision. They were 18. They should be filled with the stress of their exams, the confusion of their feelings. Not this. Anything but this.

His arms were hot, almost burning around her. The force behind them was equally crushing her and treating her like glass. He had never held her like this before. His natural scent of sandalwood was hidden beneath the smell of soot and copper. It was so familiar yet so foreign. The finality of it was so present that her hands twisted into his clothes, her chin pressed tightly to his neck. His heartbeat echoed through her, from her ear to her chest.

She could feel Ron stare at them, and she didn't understand whether he felt uncomfortable at looking at the display or wanted to join them but she couldn't care less. A bitter, twisted part of her mind that had increased under the influence of the Horcrux stated that she was the one who never left Harry, she had stayed with him through everything even when he didn't appreciate it.

The part of her who was love for her boys desperately wanted this time not to be any different.

"I'll go with you." She finally spoke, her voice cracking with emotions.

She could hear the sharp intake of breath from Ron behind her but the feeling of Harry sighing made her forget about Ron. She didn't know what that sigh meant and for once she didn't know what he was thinking. She felt him squeeze her closer for one moment before he forced himself to release his tight grip his finger burning a path as the trailed. He was almost as unwilling in letting her go as she was him, his finger followed her arms until their fingertips touched before ultimately their connection stopped.

Not moving back, he stared into her eyes, his green eyes flared as if he was trying to commit her face to memory, just like she was doing. His hair was dishevelled, full of ash and dust from the castle walls exploding around them. She could hardly see his scar from the dried blood covering his forehead, his glasses were covered in dirt and one of the lenses had cracked.

She couldn't even imagine what she currently looked like nor did she care.

His hand twitched by his side before coming up to her face yet it never made contact, just hovered above her cheek, as if he wished to touch her again but couldn't bring himself to. For it would mean that he would have to let go again.

"You can't," Harry stated firmly but sadly. "Only we know that if the snake dead; if I'm dead then it's just him."

"Harry you can't," Ron said, his voice full of agony.

However, Harry just looked at him, his face grim and unreadable to her. She heard Ron sigh once before Harry turned to her, staring once more into her eyes until she swallowed her desperation and just nodded. What she wanted couldn't be, they needed to end this war, Harry needed them to end it. She would not go against his last wish, she couldn't not after all he had sacrificed because of Voldemort. She resolved that she would take Voldemort down even if it was the last thing she did. She would not stop, she would fight, for Harry, for her parents, for herself and all the children who had to grow up in a world of terror.

Stark relief shaped Harry's features, perhaps for the fact that she wouldn't talk to her own death with him or that he had peace of mind that he could rely on them ending the war once and for all. She glanced behind to see that Ron was squeezing his eyes shut, his hands clenched at his side as if he physically could not bear to watch Harry leave. As she turned back towards Harry, she felt him lean forwards slightly. Her eyes closed as she felt his lips on her forehead, trembling with undistinguishable emotions. She felt his lips leave her skin but she dared not open her eyes, not even when he heard him walk away.

She couldn't watch him walk to his death.

Her eyes finally opened at Ron's touch at her elbow and her legs gave in. Before she could collapse to the ground, Ron held her up to his chest, muttering that he had her over and over again until he was sobbing into her hair. They fell to the ground, holding onto each other as a lifeline, for there was nothing else they could do. Grieving the only way they could at the moment, because afterwards, afterwards, they had to fight.

And they would never stop fighting.

They had promised.

* * *

Time went by so quickly, they finally managed to pull themselves together as other's walked down the main staircase and down the corridors to exit through the Main Door, the same doors Harry went through to die.

She gazed at the people around her, those she had known for over seven years and she could not help but wonder what could have been. They were just shells of themselves, of the people they could have become. No longer was Lavender the girl she was envious of, with her confidence, looks and ability to form friendships. Now, she was bruised, scarred and a little bit broken.

But they were still defiant, all of them were. They had walked out those doors, to the courtyard because they knew it was possibly their final stand. They would not allow the DeathEaters back in Hogwarts, for it was theirs. Their home, their sanctuary that they would fight for. For it symbolised more than a school, it was a fight for their future, for the future of the next generation. They stood side-by-side, all downtrodden and weary. Their eyes and ears focused on the oncoming threat, their hands clutched tightly around their wands and each other hands.

She could not bear to let go of Ron at the moment, for he was her rock in all the pain and agony she was feeling.

The whole courtyard was silent, the oppressive silence was building more and more as the hope started to diminish on the light side as time went by. She knew some had hoped that Harry would somehow defeat Voldemort in the forest but she knew the truth.

The silence was broken by Voldemort cackling, as he and his followers came into view. Hagrid bounded by chains was carrying something, someone that she could not bear to look at the moment. But she knew who it was, she knew that Voldemort was already celebrating that his last severe competition was defeated, how morale had dipped and the Light's side had so few soldiers remaining. She knew that to him, he believed that his side would have won.

It made her sick.

She would prove him wrong.

"You all stand here on judgement day, your hero's no more. Come and join us. Pledge your loyalties to me or die." Voldemort gleefully declared. She could see the maniacal and relieved faces of his followers and she could not wonder what they saw when they stared at them, were their expressions full of grief or determination, did they see broken warriors or children who shouldn't have had to fight in the first place.

"Gaze upon your saviour." Voldemort pointed towards Hagrid, to which she closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to see him. "See what happens when you defy."

She heard Ginny scream, a heart-wrenching scream that echoed within her, that she grasped at Ron tighter. He turned her away slightly, as to protect her from any curses that may fly or from the sight of their dead friend she didn't know. What she did know was he was her anchor in all the confusion and pain, the only thing that was preventing her from becoming crazy.

She felt numb, oh so numb to the following events as she focused on breathing, every time Ron took a breath, so did she, every time he exhaled, she did. She couldn't possibly have reacted outwardly towards Draco's acceptance to the Dark side, for her mind was hypersensitive to the thought that Harry was dead. She would never be able to see his tousled hair that no matter how many times he tried to tame it, no products or spell could make it settle. She would never hear his dramatic sighs again as he would drag her out of the library for dinner, not listening to how she needed to read one more thing. She wanted nothing more than to go back to the Good Old Days, back when she remembered what it felt liked to be warm, happy, carefree, loved.

She could recognise that Neville was moving slowly forwards, as quickly as he could with an injured leg. It was as she was seeing an old tape, she could only watch, she couldn't stop him. She felt a brief stab of betrayal which was smothered almost instantaneously by the agony that was beginning to consume her very soul. The very thing that she had thought had splintered into a million pieces when she had sent her parents away. She was wrong again. She knew Neville would never join Voldemort, not after all he had done to defy him. Please not again, not Neville, save him, please.

"I'd like to say something." Neville started, his voice soft but laced with confidence that grew until his whole demeanour changed, he was strong even after Voldemort had coldly joked about his name, about his parents. "It doesn't matter that Harry's gone. People die every day - friends...family. So yeah, we may have lost Harry tonight. But he's still with us...in here. So is Colin, Remus, Tonks...all of them. They didn't die in vain, but you will. For you are wrong, Harry's heart did beat for all of us. It's not over! We will fight you and you will die!"

She never thought the boy she found on the carriage who had lost his toad in their first year would have turned out to be this brave, admirable person. His speech made her see sense, breaking off her pity party she was having. Everyone here had lost someone, a child, a parent, a loved one, a friend. She had to think of Harry was one more casualty, he was no longer staying beside her but he was in her heart with all the others they had lost. She would use them, the strength they gave her to make sure this war ended once and for all. She would do all in her power to change the tide of this war, so that when Death welcomed her into his grasp, the others would be proud of her. No more hiding, no more weeping. She squeezed Ron's hand one more time before letting him go, her eyes searched his eyes and she knew he was as determined as she was. Kill the snake, kill Voldemort.

Her resolution to not give up was shadowed by how Harry's body came back to life in Hagrid's hands. He jumped away from the Voldemort and his Death Eaters, their expressions ranging from surprise to fury. He ran towards Hogwarts for cover, an action they all followed, their morale lifted higher than ever because of Neville, because of Harry. Only Harry would make impossible odds possible. She could not help the surprised chuckle as she ran, feeling so much lighter than before. They would do this. Kill the snake, kill Voldemort. Only this time it didn't seem like a suicide mission.

* * *

 _The moment she realised that she had fallen deep and hard for her best friend was just a mundane moment after a gruelling day of school. A day where they weren't concerned about any threat than the cold weather as the wind nipped at their exposed noses making them red. Ron had already gone to the kitchens for a snack before dinner and there was hardly anyone about, everyone eager to warm in front of the fires. Their bodies were so close, that she could feel the heat radiating from him, their hands occasionally brushed past each other._

 _They came to a stop by their tree, a place that everyone knew to look for the Golden Trio just like how to find Hermione in the library. They sat down upon the cold ground, watching the Giant Squid playing as the sun was slowly setting. She rested her head on his shoulder as his arm was around her, a move they used when one of them needed comfort._

 _No words were needed, his presence was enough to comfort her and she wished that her presence did the same for him. She could feel herself being lost within the moment, her mind was no longer whirling around with several lines of thoughts. Her eyes were becoming slightly heavy and although she knew that they would have to go in soon for dinner, the uneasy of the future; the frightening feelings of what was going to happen next, all eased._

 _He made her feel safe._

 _As if he felt how tired she was, he placed a kiss on her forehead before letting go of her. He stood up and offered a hand for her to take. They walk back to school slowly, where she grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard once before letting go. It was the only way she could say thanks._

 _Thank you for making her feel loved._

 _A feeling so tender and alien, that it made it hurt to breathe._

* * *

The battle was once more all-consuming; running, throwing spells and making sure she wasn't hit by any spells or rubble. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears, her heart pounding. She didn't know where her boys where she knew that Harry would be in the heart of the battle but she didn't know where Ron had gone. In the chaos, it was difficult to keep track of anything that wasn't yourself. It only took a moment of hesitance for someone to be swallowed up in the bodies. She couldn't go backwards, for if you stopped for a moment, it could mean death via the crossfire.

Her eyes were wide as the numbers of Death Eaters became smaller within this corridor as she progressed through their numbers. Her chest was heaving, eager to accept oxygen to her lungs. From the corner of her eye, she spotted one of the younger years, possibly a second or third year being pushed towards a lonely corridor by a masked Death Eater. Fury electrified beneath her skin as she started to battle her way over to the corridor, she didn't care that she had incapacitated a Death Eater, her mind in overdrive to the worst possibility. A possibility that nearly happened to her when she was tortured at the Manor.

She could hear the sniffles coming from the child and she lashed out at the Death Eater, the only reason her spell was 'expelliarmus' was due to them being so close to the child. Their wand leapt out and she grabbed it, all the while keeping her wand level at them. A spell echoing in her head if they were so foolish to react than run.

As if they understood the wrath within her that would be released upon them, they ran off down the corridor. Her eyes never left his form once until it was around the corner. She felt the child run over to her, their arms wrapping around her body. She muttered that it was okay as she patted his head slightly, as she felt his whole body shake. She pushed him back slightly to assess whether he was at all injured before telling him that she was taking him to the kitchens, in order for him to hide or have one of the elves to take him somewhere safe. The Great Hall would have been the heart of the battle, no place for a child.

She felt weary, the amount of magic she had to use today was taking a toll but she stayed alert as she had Timothy, as she had found out to hold onto her shirt, the Death Eater's wand in his hand to replace the one he had lost. Her wand out in front of her, ready to take on any threat. They slowly made their way towards the kitchens, having to pause a couple of times when someone came to close to where they were. Before they came across another third year that didn't escape, their arm looked painful and out of her skills to heal. She had Timothy hold Abigail up, unwilling to leave her alone out here. Whilst she had to go back to help end the war, she would not leave them until she knew they were safe.

She heard a large number of people coming their way, from their snarls and laughter, they didn't seem friendly. Her eyes became wide as she took in the corridor they were. Spotting an alcove hidden behind a tapestry, she quickly moved over to it. She saw that no one else was there however it was painfully small. As the bad feeling grew, she forced both Timothy and Abigail into the alcove. She tried to mask the fear and panic on her face as she smiled at them. As Timothy went to protest as he saw that there was no more space, she held a finger to her lips.

"Stay here, stay quiet until I come back. Don't come out until I say it's safe." She assured him earnestly. She would protect them with all her might. "If I don't come back, stay here until the battle has ended, promise me."

"I promise." They whispered together, and she allowed herself to send a watery smile to them before plunging them into darkness as she placed the tapestry back. She took one moment to see if there was any sign of movement behind the tapestry that could give their hiding place away before moving.

She made her way down the corridor slightly, until she was slightly hidden by a suit of armour, the only place in the whole corridor that gave her some cover. Her ears strained to hear whether the group was coming close. Her heart was racing but her hand steady, no sign of the tremors of fears that she felt.

There was silence.

Relieved that they must have gone down a different route, she turns ready to grab the children but stumbled back slightly when she was someone else there. Their eyes clashed together and the question of why they were there could not even be uttered, as they plunged a cursed knife into her stomach.

There was a squelching sound as if someone had cut into a juicy orange. She looked slowly down to where she had felt the sensation and could see the handle sticking out of her stomach, a red patch quickly forming around it. Her grip on her wand loosened, clattering onto the floor and rolling slightly away. It was as useless as she felt at that moment.

She looked up to her killer as they shifted slightly in front of her, her mind gone numb from the pain that she just wanted to ask why. Before she could utter their name, they spoke. Their voice full of emotions that she couldn't decipher as her mind felt like it was full of cotton balls. Though the tears in their eyes, she despised, shouldn't she be the one crying, she was the one that they stabbed. She shuddered at the coldness of the blade, the alien object in her body, her heartbeat racing in her eyes, the rush of blood pumping in her veins and her unfocused eyes that was proving harder and harder to concentrate.

"Hermione, why cou... couldn't you see me?" They stressed out as if they were in pain. "Why was it always him?"

They went to caress her face with the back of one of their hands, but she managed to move back slightly. Hatred twisted their features and viciously removed the blade they had impaled her, the blade making a sickening crunch as it left her body.

The smell of copper filled her nose.

Pain shot through her, causing her to gasp as black dots filled her vision. Her legs become weak and she vaguely remembered about putting pressure on wounds from one of her parent's old medical books. She placed her hand as firmly as she could over the wound, her body trying to protect itself by curling. Her legs gave out, causing her to fall on her knees, she was too slow to stabilise herself with one of her hands, that pain radiated from her knees and caused her hand to slip from her wound. The whole world slipped away in darkness briefly and as she reopened her eyes, she could see the figure hurry away, perhaps so they wouldn't be caught, perhaps they couldn't see her die. Whatever reason, she was glad that they didn't pay any attention to the tapestry.

The tapestry!

She placed her hand back on her wound, slipping a couple of times before she shuddered at the pain. She breathed through her nose, not wanting to alert the children of her dying. She tried to crawl over to the tapestry, to tell them to run to safety but she couldn't get far, it was torture that her arm went just as she was able to touch the wall. She crawled her way up until she was leaning on the wall and she knew that she could not go any further.

This was her limit.

She was exhausted.

She stared up until she saw the sky through the shattered glass window, smiling as she took in the swirls of dark greys and blues, it was not a sight she thought would be her last. Though it wouldn't be a bad sight to watch when dying. Her fingers playing with the dust from the stonework and her blood, she wanted to write something, to have her last words remembered by someone other than her killer. But she couldn't will her fingers to move more than spasms.

She could not control her breathing, her breath was coming more rapid but so much shallower, she wondered whether it was the shock of it all. She didn't want to die here but her strength was fading so quickly, she was unable to place pressure on her wound anymore and she felt cold.

Since the troll incident, she had believed that being Harry's friend would have its ups and downs. Perhaps maybe sometimes more trouble than it was worth. But she wouldn't regret it, wouldn't change any of it for the world. Because of him, because of their adventures together as the Golden Trio, she realises her own talents. She was able to shine for who she was, rather than be put down as others had done, who tried to smother her potential.

But she shined because she became confident in her personality, who she was.

He was not perfect, no one could be perfect including herself. He was easily annoyed, allowed himself to be affected so much by what others thought, lazy and didn't believe in himself. But at the end of the day, he was there for her.

She just wished she was there for him right now.

She had calculated the chances of her dying in this war, her chances of survival dropping to minuscule percentage when they were captured. She had imagined the different ways she might die, the thoughts haunting her dreams, but to be actually dying was different. She was cold and terrified. There were a million of things that she wanted to experience before dying, but now, now she would never.

Whilst she had appeared strong in front of everyone that she wasn't frightened of the risk of the war, she didn't want to die especially not alone. She wanted someone to hold her hand, to tell her that it would be okay even if both of them knew it was a lie. A fast death would have been less cruel than bleeding out slowly, tottering the balance of life and death. She wished she was brave enough to hold until help came.

But she knew that she couldn't last any longer, there was no more pain just numbness.

And help was not coming.

At least in a way, she would die a Gryffindor death, she would die for something she believed in. Her final act was to save Timothy and Abigail and she hoped, prayed to any deity that was listening to allow them to survive it, to allow them to live the rest of their lives without fear, without death.

She wanted her parents when they finally passed over to be able to say that they were proud of her, their brave child. She knew that her friends would be fine on their own, they would manage to win this and change the world for the better.

And Harry, he had lost so many people already that and she hoped that he would forgive her for leaving him. She had done so much for him, dying was only a minor thing she would do for him. She had many regrets but a major regret of hers was not telling him how much he meant to her. She just hoped that he knew, she prayed he knew.

Fat, warm tears escaped her eyes, as she could feel the darkness beckoning her closer to the abyss. She was terrified of what was going to be on the other side and resent the fact that this shouldn't have been her death, she would miss out on so much. Any feeling of relief didn't come quick enough and death took pleasure in her long state of agony.

Her last thoughts were of her mother, holding her close just as she used to when she woke up from a nightmare. She could smell her jasmine perfume and the fabric softener that was the scent of home.

* * *

 _"Do you think we will win?" Harry asked one evening as they sat together beside the campfire. It was a moment of clarity and calmness that allowed them to focus on the task, to not be tainted more by the locket which currently was being worn by Ron who was fiddling with the radio inside the tent._

 _"The minute we give in is the minute they've won." Hermione finally answered softly. It was a question that had been creating havoc on her mind, especially with the influence of the Horcrux._

 _"Anyway if we didn't fight, we would all be dead by now. At least this way we know we are trying to make a difference, no matter how little it is."_

 _Harry just sighed and put his arm around her. It was the basic instinct to stay grounded, to know that they were fighting for each other and all the others out there to live. It was the comfort they both needed, a way of speaking without words._

 _"Then we'll change it all," Harry said, voice full of determination. It times like this that she admires him and his beliefs. She already had thoughts that some of them may fall. They were already weary soldiers before their time. But she didn't voice any of it out, why should she make him feel her desperation?_

 _"We're already leading the revolution."_

 _Their moment was broken by a yell from inside the tent and the distinctive sound of Potterwatch warbling on._


	2. Chapter 2

Title - Promise of Tomorrow

Category - Harry Potter

Genre - Romance/ Angst/Tragedy

Rating - Mature

Warning - Character death, PTSD

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary - Sometimes time is a cruel mistress. She doesn't allow you to say goodbye, to say 'I love you'. Courage is needed to stop putting off saying these things, for tomorrow isn't guaranteed. Tomorrow isn't coming. So be careful, oh so careful about what you promise. For broken promises can lead to shattered souls.

A.N – This is the second part of the edited version of Promise of Tomorrow, previously known as Tomorrow Broken Promise. I hope you enjoy.

The life of the dead is placed in

the memory of the living.

Cicero.

* * *

The war was finally over.

It was a surreal feeling, after 7 years Voldemort was finally gone.

The battle of Hogwarts came to a standstill as Voldemort body fell to the ground and did not move. Every Death Eaters could feel the moment of their masters demise, their marks flaring up in pain, making even the strongest groan and wither in pain until only a shadow of a mark remained on their arms. With their Lord motionless body and most of the inner circle dead, they began to retreat to save themselves. Running as fast as they could to exit the anti-apparating wards. Some of them tired to continue fighting, as if they were a cornered animal. Madness filled their eyes, desperation filled them that they were throwing spells at anyone nearby regardless of who or which side they were on.

The Light side was so more invigorated, on a high of killing Voldemort, and was eagerly giving chase, disarming and defeating the remaining Death Eaters.

Harry, did not feel happiness like everyone else, yes he was relieved but he also had blood on his hands. Stains he knew would never be removed. He bitterly smiled as people congratulated him, patting his shoulder or shaking his hand. He never wanted to be the saviour of the world but he was, he had never imagined living through it all.

He didn't.

Being dead, seeing the part of Voldemort soul was haunting. A part of him felt as if he was brought back slightly different as if his skin did not fit right, that something was lurking within his bones.

He made his way towards the Great Hall after not being able to see either of his best friends. He felt as if he was going to collapse at any given moment, his hands shook with fatigue and his head pounded terribly. He scanned the damage to Hogwarts, rubble everywhere, massive holes in the walls leaving what used to be his home feeling as damaged as he did. He saw those weeping over those they had lost, those who had not been taken to the Great Hall yet and he could not wonder how many people had to die. Voldemort was dead but there was so much left that needed correcting to make sure that didn't happen for a while. Because he knew that there would always be another Dark Lord, before Voldemort it was Grindelwald and he knew that there was someone else before him.

It was like Dumbledore had mentioned the balance between Good and Evil, but why did it cost so much? There would be a whole generation scarred from the war, who had to live in fear during part of their Hogwarts years, a place that was supposed to protect them.

Perhaps they will never get better, perhaps they could be the warning for the future generations. To warn their families about the horrors they saw in order to make a change.

He passed McGonagall who looked older and more tired than he had even thought was possible, he was glad she had survived. Her bun had become disarrayed with large chunks of hair touching her back of her neck.

"Have you seen Hermione or Ron?" Harry asked,

"Afraid not, Mr Potter. Although there are many students unaccounted for at the moment. Check the Great Hall." She advised, before composing herself and started to get a search for the missing students.

He wandered to the Great Hall and awkwardly stood near the door, watching as those who were alive embraced each other, and cried over those who they had lost. Each person's death hit him hard, it was another failure on his behalf. He wanted to have saved them all, he hadn't wanted anyone to die for the fight that he had brought to Hogwarts, there were safer beforehand.

He could see Dennis lying motionless next to his brother, both of the Creevey brothers would have faces of frozen fear and terror forever. They looked so tiny amongst the rest of the bodies and he paused in front of them. The brothers who were more Gryffindor than he could have ever imagined, heroes until the end of time. He quickly moved along the bodies, always taking a moment to stop and send a prayer for them.

His eyes burned from the threat of tears and he knew he couldn't break down now, for he may not stop.

He heard his name being called from behind him and he turned towards the Great Hall doors to see Ron standing there, the small grin they shared showed the relief of seeing each other again. He waited for Ron to walk towards him before pulling him into a hug, his arms shaking from relief. He felt Ron mutter something into his shoulder before they let go.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, his voice strong although he wasn't fooled by the toll the battle had done to him after all his brother was dead. He had not had the chance to properly mourn.

"She's not with you?" Harry asked, dread filling him at the possibility that she was missing. His eyes scanned the bodies already in the Great Hall but he could not see anyone that matched Hermione's features.

"We got separated, Ginny needed my help with a Death Eater but when I turned to look for her she was gone," Ron replied. A tense silence filled the space between them, both fearing the worst. Perhaps it was too much for none of them to have come out the war on the other side unharmed.

They both turned as Moly came near them, looking devastated and weary,

he decided to give the Weasley family some space to properly mourn for the loss of one of their own. He didn't want to impose and he knew that Ron needed the space to mourn.

"I'm gonna go find her," Harry said, his hand squeezing Ron's arm as he passed.

* * *

 _"Everything's going to change now isn't it?" She said softly, her eyes searching his face as if it held the answer to everything._

 _He saw Ron look awkwardly at the display of emotions and move slowly away as Harry came closer to her. It took a while for her to look into his eyes to know that he was telling the truth, he places his hand of her shoulder to help ground her frantic mind and to focus on him._

 _"Yes," he said simply because it was the truth. Everything had changed yet at the same time nothing had changed. They were still alive and they knew they were going to have to fight against Voldemort now that he was officially back. They were still in a zone of unknown between their feelings, yet he didn't care._

 _He knew that they would get through it together._

* * *

 _For he didn't know how to cope without her. She held him together and mended the parts of him that broke. Through everything, she had always been by his side and he would be by hers, for as long as she allowed him too._

He searched the areas where the main battles had been held yet amongst the rubble, he could not see her at all. In a vain attempt to tried the library yet it had been destroyed and Pince was wailing miserably at the state of it all.

It wasn't until the desperation overcame him whilst walking back to the Great Hall, that tore at his chest and climb up his throat did he stop. Sliding downed the wall where the old Charms classrooms met the Dungeon passageway did he start breathing rapid scoffs of breath. He knew that he would find her wherever she was. He didn't know how long he sat there but felt someone place their hand on his shoulder.

At first, he could not help but believe that it was Hermione, her name spilling from his lips as he looked up hopefully but they died on his lips. He could feel disappointment fill him to see McGonagall standing above him instead.

She didn't say anything of his obvious disappointment but just helped him up from the floor, brushing the dust off his shoulders. It was clear that she had been crying from her red-rimmed eyes and it took a couple of tries for her to speak.

"She's in the Hall," she finally managed to say, her tone subdued yet it didn't register properly. Hope filled him instead as he started to walk back with McGonagall to the hall. He was so eager to finally see her, to tell her to what had been weighing on his mind for ages. After all the months travelling together, without her beside him felt as if he was missing a part of him.

"Harry.." McGonagall tried to talk to him but he wasn't listening and he couldn't hurt him right before the doors of the Great Hall. She just squeezed his shoulder before saying. "I'm sorry."

Confused filled him as he turned to look at her at the doors of the Great Hall but something caught his eye that took his breath away. He stumbled back slightly, nearly tripping into McGonagall who managed to steady him. He could hear faintly that she was trying to talk to him but all he could hear was a buzzing sound that was getting louder and louder.

He shook his head several times, closing his eyes in hope that this was just a nightmare but it wasn't.

He collapsed to his knees, causing alarm for those who recognised him however McGonagall waved them away, moving them away so that he could grieve. His eyes were solely fixated on a face, whose features he had memorised and knew better than his own face; her plump lips, her sharp nose, her wild hair framing her cheekbones. He couldn't even manage to stand the few feet that separated them and crawled over after his legs gave out the third time. Desperately hoping that by the time he got closer he would see that she was breathing, that she had mistakenly placed on the side of the Hall for the deceased.

But he didn't.

Her chest remained emotionless, her skin translucent and stiff looking.

He could see that there were two other children who he didn't recognise on the other side of her crying but he paid no attention to them. He slowly placed a shaking finger on her cheek, as if it would wake her up but her cheek was stone cold, making him jolt his hand back in surprise.

He couldn't accept this, it wasn't right.

 _Everything was just wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!_

Her lips that he often imagine kissing had turned blue and a small trail of blood from the corner of her lips had dried. He could hear something or someone whimpering like a hurt animal, it took more time to realise that the sound was coming from him.

"Hermione, please wake up it isn't funny anymore." Harry started to rambled hysterically. "You made your point now wake up, you have to wake up. We were supposed to go to France together, you can't break our promise. Please wake up, why aren't you waking up! I love you. I finally said it, I love you so come back, please."

Though many were mourning those they had lost, they left a respectable distance between the grieving hero and the love he was never able to express in life.

McGonagall ushered the children she had found away from the sight, tears streaming down her face as they recounted what had happened. How Hermione saved them and could not mourn her favourite student, a child she thought like her own. She would allow herself to mourn the loss in private later on, now though, now her students needed her to be strong for them all.

She watched over the Hall, witnessing the moment Harry mind cracked, as he started to rock, his hands pulling at his hair so violently that it took Ron and Neville to grab them, to stop him from harming himself. His cries carried through the room and she had to turn away as Neville and Ron carried his struggling body away from the Hall, away from Hermione as he tried to get free, tried to get back to her.

* * *

 _"Where would you go after all of this?" Harry asked, looking out towards the view the astronomy tower had to offer. It reminded him what it would be like to just fly away from it all. To feel the feeling of freedom he feels on a broom forever._

 _Just like flying was in his veins, being grounded was in Hermione's veins. The idea of equal justice for everyone made her strive for greatness in order to help causes she felt needed her. Ironically he was one of her cases in a way, he wouldn't be alive now without her and the fact that she didn't see it. Well, it was a quality he adores about her._

 _"If I ran away from all of this, it would have been a long time ago Harry."_

 _Hermione answered, her eyes not looking at her friend as he huffed a chuckle. She was in too deep now to think of such fanciful ideas, her mind was already whirling about what she would do with her parents now that Voldemort was back. She knew they would go after them because of her, a fact that didn't make her decision any easier though she knew she had time to think what to do._

 _"Come on Hermione," He asked, nudging her shoulder, laughing at her shock expression. "I'm serious."_

 _"I thought you were Harry." She replied without breaking stride, a smile playing on her lips as she turned to look at him. The wind was tossing her hair everywhere, her tanned skin had started to become rosy with the cold. In his eyes, she never looked more beautiful._

 _"I would go to France, I remember my parents telling me of this coffee store by the Eiffel Tower with a bookstore next to it, it's where they met." She answered, smiling wistfully at the place that she had imagined from all her bedtime stories of the place her parents met. They had made it sound so magical. " I would buy a book and just spend the day soaking in the sunshine, watching people walking by."_

 _"I'll make sure you will be able to do that Hermione, I promise," Harry said with quiet confidently. Just to watching her light up about talking about the place, he could not imagine what she would look like actually there._

 _"Oh, Harry…" was all she could say before she hugged him. How could she tell him not to make those sort of promises? She did, however, appreciate the sentiment, yet she knew that realistically their chances would be slim of going to Paris together. She just stood there, her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. It was reminding her of her resolve, she would stand with him until the end._

 _That was her promise._

 _It seemed like they both made unrealistic promises that day._

 _Love alone couldn't keep those promises from being broken. It just produced two broken souls._

* * *

The war had been over for a year now, and the British Wizarding community were stuck in the middle ground of wondering what to do next. The past was too painful to go back too, as it was full of those that they have lost and the future seemed too far away, like a dream. They were all a little broken, Hogwarts still had corridors full of rubble, second-year muggleborn children were terrified of the first year experience of the wizarding world. So many children experienced the effects of PTSD, unable to sleep without the terror waking them, older students could not sleep without a weapon of some sort in their hand. The effects of torture lingered on so many and some couldn't cope at all and took their own lives.

Newspapers would report every so often potential sights for the Boy-Who-Lived from America to Japan, although, the hidden truth from the public was that they knew where Harry was. He wasn't trying to find himself or take on dangerous creatures but in a padded room of Mungos. It was always a dreadful sight to witness their friend only through a window and not have him recognised them. His back was facing the window, his body curled in on itself and towards the padded wall of the room. His long untameable hair hid away his features away from any of his guest. It was explained by an on-duty Healer that he refused to have anyone touch it, even to brush it and if they even attempted to cut it, his magic would become havoc and he would start having a fit.

 _What would the world think of seeing their hero like this?_

Molly had commented once after a visit that he was looking more like Sirius with his hair like that, making them wonder whether it was a symbolic thing to help connect him with all those he had lost. Whether it was so if he couldn't recognise himself, inside or out, then he might not be himself. Not the person who had lost so many, the person who was broken.

Not the person who had lost all his loved ones?

Would he be the person who had blood on his hands from all of those who died in his name?

Would he be the person who couldn't keep his promises? Who couldn't appreciate the father figure he had in Sirius before he died? Who couldn't say to Remus how much he relied on him? To tell the woman he adored that he loved her? Did she even know? That without her, he didn't know how to cope.

Not soon enough for him was the visiting hours over and the Weasley's and his other friends finally left the window that looked into his bleak existence, where they could go back to reality, read the columns of speculation of where he was and slowly put their lives back together again until this period of time would become a distant memory to them.

He felt less exasperated now that they were gone, he could finally think. They were just reminders of the past, of who he used to be.

But that not who he was now.

Now, he was just a broken man.

He thumbed the photo he had been holding close to him away from the window view of the two of them. It was a picture that had been developed on Colin's camera that he had given him just before they left their 6th year. It was just a random moment in front of the common room fire where Hermione had been laughing at something he had said, and he was looking at her with such warm affection that it hurt to look at for too long.

He sometimes wondered whether it was how his Dad had looked like when he gazed at Lily.

It was the only thing that had kept him from falling directly into the abyss of insanity, he was in there because he couldn't live without her, he had desperately tried but he couldn't, shadows haunted him, whispering to him. He wasn't trusted anymore to not take his own life, he had tried so many times but something always stopped him. Perhaps it was because in that split-second he could see her, pleading him not too.

One night after drinking too much in the library of Grimmauld place, a place that held fond memories of Hermione, Sirus and Remus something inside him broke. Now it was just a place that held all his broken promises.

it was that photo that had prompted him to call Ron through the fireplace when he cut his wrists open, the ghost haunting him became too much. It was his last night of freedom before he was placed in this room over 10 months ago, all that remained of that person was the red scars and the photo.

 _"I'll promise to use the mirror at Hogwarts, you'll be sick of me after a while."_

 _"Remus, you need to go back to your wife, she needs you now. I promise I'll find you at the first sign of danger."_

 _"I can't wait to try the pastries in France Hermione, I hope they do treacle tarts."_

That didn't matter though. He would live out his life sentence within these white four walls, his penance for all his wrongs.

To appease all the blood on his hands that would never scrub off, no matter how many times he tried.

For he knew that in the afterlife, he would break any more promises. They were worth waiting for, worth living for.

She would be waiting for him.

A small smile formed on his cracked lips, his cheek muscles twitching at the lack of use as a tear rolled down unnoticed.

He would just have to content with his broken mind and his memories of her until then.

 _"Where would you go then, Harry?"_

 _"Simple, wherever you are."_


End file.
